


Otherwise Engaged

by lettersbyelise



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Draco is a squeamish little shit, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Intercrural Sex, Leaky Cauldron, M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Realistically dirty men’s loo, Semi-Public Sex, but Harry likes it very much, realistic bathroom sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-24 10:12:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15628494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lettersbyelise/pseuds/lettersbyelise
Summary: Harry and Draco meet in the Leaky Cauldron men’s loos after a week of taxing Auror training for a bit of quick and (literally) dirty sex.





	Otherwise Engaged

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MaesterChill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaesterChill/gifts).



> Many thanks to the fantastic **MaesterChill** for her title ideas, her beta, her hilarious comments and her insistence that I write and finish this ridiculous PWP ficlet  <3 To the Reasonable Amount of Come Consultant I didn’t know I needed: This one’s for you!

Harry dipped his hands under the sputtering spray of the tap. The water was unpleasantly lukewarm and there wasn’t any soap left in the ancient liquid soap dispenser. The sink must have been white a century ago. In the flickering bluish neon light of the loo, it was impossible to tell which colour it was supposed to be now, smeared with sooty patches of filth and peppered with errant hairs.

The Leaky Cauldron’s men's loo on a Friday night smelled like a barnyard on a hot summer day, but it was still several degrees quieter than the cacophonous pub, and as such, a welcome respite for Harry's ringing ears. The same could not be said of Harry’s nostrils and eyes — every surface that wasn’t wet and dirty was covered with muddy toilet paper. All in all, there was a balance to be found between the smells assaulting his nostrils and the din assaulting his ears, and for now, he’d take the stench over the roar of the drunken Friday night crowd.

They did it every Friday, him and the other Auror trainees: they worked hard all week, headed to the pub after the last class on Friday, got drunk off their faces, and repeated the next week. Harry pondered the slight absurdity of the ritual, of waking up every Saturday morning with a hangover so bad it made you wish for death. Yet he didn't question it. It was fun while it lasted. It was a nice bonding moment with his fellow trainees and, in addition, it came with a benefit he wasn’t ready to give up just yet.

Said benefit appeared in his line of vision when he looked up from the sink: Draco Malfoy was observing him in the cracked, smudged bathroom mirror. A lewd smile spread on his thin lips when Harry finally noticed him.

“Hullo, Potter.”

Harry grinned. “You already said that to me today.”

“This morning in class? I was being polite.”

“And now?”

“Now… it's short for _‘it's Friday, let’s fuck’_ ”.

Harry snorted. “Merlin, Draco. Way to get to the point.”

In three strides, Draco was next to him, his long fingers wrapping around Harry’s wrist as he pulled him into a stall. He shut the flimsy door behind them and immediately crowded Harry against the wall. With the two of them and the gaping toilet taking up half of the available room, the stall was cramped, humid and far too hot for comfort. But Draco’s teeth bit kisses down Harry’s throat, and he couldn't really bring himself to care. What was wrong with having a quick and delectable shag, even if it was in a stinky bathroom?

Until the toilet roll holder pressed into his left arsecheek and he groaned.

“Ugh. Draco, we can’t keep meeting like this.”

“Why? What's not to like about meeting once a week in a loud, filthy men's loo that smells like stale dragon piss?”

A black fly came to perch on Draco’s pale eyebrow as he said the words, and Harry snickered.

“It's perfect. _So romantic._ You're right. Let's keep things _exactly_ the way they are.”

Draco batted the fly away and finally looked around him, his nose wrinkled in mild disgust. Harry ran a finger along Draco's jaw, compelling him to turn back to him.

“Hey. We can go back to mine if you'd like.”

In response, Draco grabbed him by the front of his robes and pulled him into a crushing kiss. When they broke for air, he growled into Harry's neck: “I would consider it, if I didn't _need_ to have you now.”

“Yeah? What do you want to do to me?” Harry asked breathlessly, drinking in the sight of Draco with his hair already tousled, his cheeks pink and his grey eyes heavy-lidded, looking so thoroughly disheveled just from kissing Harry.

“What I want,” Draco told him, pressing an unceremonious palm to Harry’s crotch and letting out a satisfied sigh when Harry moaned in response, “is to suck you off.”

“Do it,” Harry challenged him, bucking helplessly into Draco’s talented hand. “For Merlin’s sake, Draco. Yes. Do it.”

Draco answered with a groan and pressed his own erection against Harry’s thigh. They rutted against each other, lost in the moment. Harry wondered if he was going to come just from this — it wouldn’t be the first time, Draco had the uncanny ability to make him feel like a teenager on so many levels — when Draco stopped abruptly.

Breathing heavily, he pulled away from Harry’s body and looked around them again.

“What?”

Draco frowned. “There isn’t any paper left.”

“So?”

“So... I’m not kneeling on this floor, Potter. Look at it!” He gestured indignantly to the tiles at their feet, their colour indefinable under layers of grime.

“I knelt on this floor just last week!” Harry argued, torn between exasperation and amusement.

“Maybe _you_ did, because frankly who cares about those jeans you wear. The knees of my Diesels are not touching _that_ floor.”

“Cast a Scourgify, then.”

“There is no spell strong enough to cut through that level of sedimented filth, Potter.”

“Ugh, Merlin,” Harry sighed, throwing Draco a fond look and drawing his wand to Conjure paper towels into his hand. “Remind me again why I bother with you, you impossibly fussy prat?”

Draco lost no time in grabbing the towels from Harry’s hand and laying them at his feet. There was nothing objectively sexy about it, and yet… watching Draco meticulously prepare the filthy stall, gingerly pushing mud-soaked toilet paper with the tip of his shoe before applying a thick layer of towels on the floor, the way a solicitous lover would spread rose petals on a beautifully-made bed… it never failed to steal Harry’s breath away. Despite Draco’s sarcasm and biting remarks, he was still going into all this trouble for _him._ For _Harry_. Harry couldn’t help but feel a little special. It made him fancy Draco a little more every time they did this.

“I think we’re ready,” Draco rubbed his palms together and put his hands on his hips once he was done. Then—he bunched up his robes all the way to his waist like a ballerina getting ready for a pirouette, and he knelt on the paper towels, never letting go of his robes.

Harry burst out laughing. “What are you doing?”

“I’m not letting my robes drag through puddles of piss, Potter!” Draco looked up at him with a disgruntled frown. “Now take down your jeans and pants before I get bored with you.”

Unable to completely stifle his giggles, Harry obeyed. Draco’s obsessive little ceremonial had done nothing to discourage his erection, which immediately sprung out and almost hit Draco in the mouth. Harry palmed his sweaty bollocks self-consciously, cursing the vigourous combat training Auror Crawley had put them through earlier in the evening. It had left Harry’s skin sticky and clammy even after a shower. He probably smelled a little too musky now, too. There was no way to tell amidst the other smells of the loo. He pushed his fingers through Draco’s fine hair, torn between wanting to slide his prick between Draco’s perfect pink lips and bashfully worrying that Draco would turn him down, put off by his stronger-than-usual body odour.

Ever the unexpected one, Draco licked his lips instead, as though he was being presented with the most delectable dish.

“Mmh, I love myself a manly, musky Potter,” he purred, and pulled a pink tongue out to lick a long stripe along the underside of Harry’s cock.

 _“_ Oh _fuck._ Draco,” Harry whimpered, forgetting his misgivings at the sensation of Draco’s mouth licking him, kissing him, _engulfing him_ into that velvety, wet warmth. His head hit the rickety wall of the stall with a hollow thunk and he plunged his hands into Draco’s hair, fisting it mindlessly as Draco moaned around his cock. “You like that, don’t you? You like it when I pull your hair?” Harry groaned urgently, resisting the instinctive push forward of his hips in an attempt not to choke Draco. Draco moaned some more in response and Harry pulled harder.

Just then, the door of the loos opened with a bang and several men walked in, loud and drunk. Harry froze, and so did Draco, letting go of Harry’s still-erect cock with a soft, wet pop. The neighbouring stall’s door opened and closed, the almost-quiet from a few seconds ago gone with the loud noises of their fellow Auror trainees. Someone burped loudly and his friends responded with raucous laughter.

Draco slowly looked up at Harry. “I couldn’t wish for a more glamourous setting,” he said under his breath with a playful tilt of his head.

“I did suggest we go back to my flat,” Harry whispered back, regretting he hadn’t insisted that they leave when there was still time. There was no way they could get the heat going again now, could they? Usually, they both managed to come before someone walked into the bathroom. With Draco, it wasn’t difficult: Harry came almost as soon as those long, dexterous fingers wrapped around his cock.

Surely now the mood was killed.

Until Draco leant in, gave his cock another expert lick and murmured: “I want you to come on my face.”

“What?” Harry asked breathlessly, unsure he had heard him correctly.

“I said,” Draco answered pointedly, _“come on my face,_ Harry.”

The fact that they were almost in public was instantly forgotten. So turned on that he could barely remember to breathe, Harry dropped his hand to his cock and started fisting it roughly, savouring the appreciative little noises Draco made as he stroked Harry’s thighs, ran his fingers along the coarse black hair around his prick, licking his swollen lips. All those Fridays  roughly fucking in the men’s loo and Harry still couldn’t believe the sight in front of him, Draco on his knees, hands reverently roaming Harry’s body, eyelids heavy with lust, short choked breaths ghosting on the sensitive head of his prick.

Trying to be quiet was a feat in itself. Harry swallowed a whimper at the sounds Draco was making, at the barely-audible slap of his hand flying over his prick. The door opened, the other men left the loos none the wiser. Harry’s hand stuttered over his erection, uncertain what to do next now their little number of impromptu semi-voyeurism was over.  

As if reading his thoughts, as if unable to contain himself any longer, Draco launched into a stream of whispered profanities, “Fuck. Yes, Harry. Fuck, you’re so _hot._ Yes, _fuck your fist,_ yes, like _that._ I want to watch you fuck your fist in this disgusting bathroom and I want to know you’re doing it for me. I always knew you were a filthy bastard, Harry. And I love it, yes, oh god yes—”

He was interrupted by a ribbon of come hitting his lips as Harry cried out and came, cock throbbing and spurting streaks of pearly spunk across Draco’s aristocratic face and impeccably pressed standard-issue Auror trainee robes. Almost doubling over, Harry tried to catch his breath and watch as Draco swiped a drop of come from his cheek and brought his finger to his mouth. He sucked at it with a cheeky glint in his eyes.

“Fuck,” Harry moaned, his cock giving one last hopeful twitch at the sight, “you’ll be the death of me, you know that?”

“I would expect to be nothing less, Harry,” Draco gave him a brazen smile, licking the come clinging to his lips. “Now turn around.”

Harry swirled around, hands on the stall’s wall. He spread his legs expectantly as far as his bunched-up jeans and pants allowed. He heard Draco chuckle softly behind him. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end.

“Oh, Potter. I wish. However, even knowing your half-arsed personal hygiene, I wouldn’t dare touch you _there_ at the moment. The impeccable cleanliness of my fingers may have been compromised in this… _environment.”_

Harry glanced at him over his shoulder. Draco looked terribly disappointed, and Harry couldn’t keep the fondness out of his smile.

“Just… fucking rut against my arse, then. Come on, you big sissy, we haven’t got all night. The others are going to get suspicious.”

Draco’s arms closed around him, bringing their sweaty, sticky skin flush together, the hard ridge of Draco’s erection slotting between Harry’s arsecheeks like it belonged there. Draco braced a hand against the wall for leverage and began to move, his slick cock sliding against Harry’s hole with each thrust, sending electric shocks of renewed want through him. Harry threw his head back, resting it against Draco’s shoulder, letting him nip at the tender flesh over his pulse point. When he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was the sleeve of Draco’s robes pulled over his hand in an attempt to avoid direct contact with the wall.

“Don’t tell me that _even the wall_ disgusts you,” Harry snorted in spite of himself. “You know that nothing could have touched it so high up?”

“Potter,” Draco ground between his teeth, “except you, there isn’t a thing that doesn’t disgust me in this loo. Merlin, I don’t even come here to piss. I’m here for _you,_ and you only.”

“Yeah?” Harry wanted to hear more of it — and so did his cock, quickly filling up again at the prospect of more of Draco’s filthy monologue. He took Draco’s other hand in his and pressed it against his hardening prick. Draco’s fingers wrapped around him as if on instinct and initiated yet another stream-of-consciousness obscenities from him.

“How can you even doubt it, fuck, Harry. You’re the most fuckable man in the whole pub. In the whole city of London. And the fact that you’re mine—Merlin, you’re _mine—_ even if it’s only for a night a week—god, Harry, I could have you anywhere, I’m having you here, in the nastiest, filthiest, foulest place on Earth and I’m still asking for more, oh god your arse, Harry, your cock, I can’t get enough of you and yes, yes, I’m here for you, yes, I’m going to—”

What Draco was going to do became clear when he stilled against Harry. Harry felt the warm splash of his release against his lower back, dripping into the cleft of his arse, over his sensitive entrance, along his naked thighs. Draco’s harsh breaths hit the back of his neck. He kept grinding against Harry, slowly now, leisurely almost, his hand on Harry’s cock picking up the pace that his body had set a moment ago.

“Draco…” Harry breathed. Merlin, his head was swimming, hazy with heat. He was going to come again, twice in a matter of minutes, and it was all because of Draco. Draco, notoriously meticulous Draco, who was ready to brave a disheveled, grimy men’s loo just to be with Harry.

“I want you,” Draco whispered into his ear, his husky voice sending shivers down Harry’s spine. His fist was now flying over Harry’s cock, faster, faster, and Harry wasn’t going to last. “I want you, but I want to want you in a bed next time. Please. _Please, Harry—”_

With a strangled groan, Harry came again, splattering the wall with come and slicking Draco’s fist as his hand helped him ride the aftershocks of his second orgasm. His whole body trembling with the force of his release, Harry let his sweaty forehead hit the wall, watching with idle satisfaction as his spunk dripped to the floor, as Draco’s hand left his cock and his arm wrapped around his waist instead.

Slowly, he turned into Draco’s embrace, avoiding the come drying on the wall as he did.

“I’ll take you up on your offer,” he murmured, contented.

“Mmh?” Draco asked lazily, nuzzling at Harry’s ear.

“Let’s go back to mine next time. Let’s fuck in a real bed. Or a sofa. Or a table. Or the floor. Just… somewhere reasonably clean? Where we’re not at risk of catching scabies just for a quick fuck?”

“Are you implying the hovel you call a flat is _reasonably clean?”_

Harry snorted and kissed the corner of Draco’s mouth.

“God, you’re impossible. It’s cleaner than here, yeah. I’ll go anywhere as long as I can be _horizontal._ With _you.”_

Draco’s grey eyes were warm on his, even in the cold neon light of the loo. Another black fly came buzzing around them. Draco batted it away with a defeated sigh and a triumphant smile.

“Fine, Potter. I’ll do it. But only because you’re such an annoyingly fussy prat.”

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are lovely!
> 
> Come say hi on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/lettersbyelise)!


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